


Dr. Wells and the Flash (or Harry and Jay, Whichever You Prefer)

by TheNarator



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Heartbreak, Lack of Communication, M/M, Missing Scene, Prequel, Unhealthy Relationships, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A speculation on what the previous relationship between E2-Harrison Wells and Jay Garrick was like back on their Earth, before the portal to E1 opened.</p><p>aka if these two idiots would just talk to each other there'd be a lot less drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Superhero' Is Not A Compliment

Jay Garrick isn’t working for STAR Labs when they first meet. He may be young, but he's ambitious, and he already has a grant and a lab of his own when Harrison first breezes casually into his life. Harrison needs something from him – information, expertise, honestly he doesn't remember – and because his incompetent staff are having a bit of trouble getting what they need he thinks he’ll go charm it out of Garrick himself. Jay's having none of it though, says he's no sellout, he’s going to save the world in his own small way and he doesn’t care about the money. He doesn’t care about Harrison’s effortless charm either, and completely dismisses his business propositions and all the subsequent flirting, knowing full well it's another attempt to sway him. This is something of a new experience for Harrison: he’s always had a way with people, and pretty much since he hit puberty he’s had his pick of sexual and romantic partners. Naturally, this results in a  _deep_  fascination with Jay, and the full brunt of his attention is something Jay Garrick simply isn’t prepared for.

It doesn’t take long before Jay starts finding Harrison’s persistence – visits to Jay’s lab, gifts of scientific equipment and every day a “How you doin’ Garrick?” followed by an endless stream of cheesy pick-up lines – less obnoxious and more endearing. First they’re sort-of dating, and then they’re  _definitely_  sleeping together, and then Jay’s giving up his old life to come work at STAR Labs because why the hell not? They don’t tell Jesse, she’s never really cared about her father’s long string of short-lived romantic attachments since her mom moved out, and Harrison can tell Jay is still sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but unbeknownst to them both Harrison is  _serious_  this time. It helps that he and Jay both have their own work, which they both love and which fills any kind of void the relationship might leave. Maybe Jay doesn’t always like Harrison’s tendency to push forward despite the potential consequences, maybe Harrison gets frustrated with Jay’s refusal to take risks and maybe it’s all a bit dysfunctional, but in the end it works for them.

Then, two things happen in quick succession: the particle accelerator goes live, and Jay gets struck by lightning.

Harrison isn’t sure if he’s more furious that Jay put himself in a coma mere hours after Harrison’s greatest moment of triumph or terrified that Jay will never wake up. He moves Jay to star labs for observation and better care, screams at the nurses for no reason and sits by Jay’s bed every day, hoping that he can make Jay open his eyes with the sheer force of his glare. He keeps it from Jesse, because she’ll be graduating soon and she doesn’t need this, and because the time to tell her about his relationship isn’t when the man he’s maybe-possibly-probably-definitely in love with might well be lying at death’s door.

When Jay wakes up Harrison smacks him, and then they fuck in Jay’s hospital bed because Harrison needs to know that Jay is alive and Jay has never felt  _more_  alive. This is owed in part to the superpowers he seems to have developed, but Harrison’s really only interested in those in as far as what he can learn from them, not how they can be used. The metahumans are a problem though, one that Jay is keenly interested in, and someone has to do something. Then Zoom appears, and someone  _definitely_  has to do something.

“You’re a scientist, not a superhero,” Harrison grumbles, glaring at Jay in the mirror. He looks different in the relic of an army uniform, too different, and Harrison doesn’t like it.

“It’s just until the police learn to handle this,” Jay promises, softening that statement with a light, teasing kiss. “Just until I can stop Zoom.”

They work together. Harrison sets up a base of operations, fills it with equipment to test and train Jay’s powers. He develops Velocities 1-5 in an attempt to boost Jay’s speed, make him faster than Zoom so that this can be over quicker. He grudgingly tolerates Jay going after lower-level metahuman criminals, but he stays focused on Zoom and tries his best to keep Jay focused as well, rather than letting him get swept up in being ‘the Flash.’

When Jay’s playing the Flash though, it’s like he’s a different person. He doesn’t speak or act or even hold himself like he normally does, and it hurts Harrison to see someone he cares about so much behaving so unlike himself. Every time the Flash comes out Jay practically disappears, and Harrison starts to resent that public persona Jay’s so carefully cultivating.

He loves Jay. He hates the Flash.

Jesse picks up on that hatred. She likes the Flash, looks up to him like the rest of Central City does, and she can’t understand why her dad hates him so much. By this point it’s more like Harrison’s actively keeping a secret from her than just not bothering her with it, and he hates that too. When this whole thing is over and Zoom is behind bars though, they've decided they'll go public with their relationship. The Flash will retire, Harrison will have Jay back, and Jesse can have her hero in a way that his legions of adoring fans never will.

Harrison remembers a time when he was the only one in this relationship with legions of adoring fans, and Jay laughs and welcomes Harrison to the wonderful world of dating a celebrity.

Then, Jay starts pulling away from him. He starts going out and fighting without telling Harrison, without wearing the earpiece that keeps them in contact during those perilous moments. He starts fighting non-metahuman crime, even though that’s not what they agreed on, that’s not what the Flash is supposed to be for. He doesn’t seem nearly as focused on Zoom as he should be, almost like he’s putting off dealing with Zoom, and he gets weirdly obsessed with the particle accelerator and the exact time and position of when each metahuman was first sighted. He doesn’t come home as often, and eventually Harrison realizes he’s been working in his old lab again after hours. He’s distant and distracted and it reminds Harrison painfully of when his marriage to Jesse’s mother fell apart, and he doesn’t know how to fix things now any more than he did then. He tries to confront Jay about it, but Jay starts wildly accusing him of keeping secrets, secrets involving the particle accelerator.

Harrison knows he took some … risks, with the accelerator. He didn’t tell Jay every gory detail because he knew there were some things Jay wouldn’t like, but it was all worth the reward that they reaped, that all of Central City reaped with them. You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, and if one such egg was the career of a physicist named Hartley Rathaway then it’s a good thing no one liked Hartley in the first place. He has his own theories about what might have created the metahumans, but he still considers the benefits of the accelerator worth it. Cleaning up that particular mess is what the Flash is for.

Then, after a few  _weeks_  where Harrison literally doesn’t see Jay  _at all,_ STAR Labs is hosting a press conference. Maybe Harrison had developed the metahuman awareness apps out of guilt and maybe he did it because scared people are easy to sell to, but the only thing that anyone needs to know is that Harrison Wells cares about Central City (or at least that’s all they need to think). Then suddenly the Flash is there, and for a moment Harrison can’t even speak. This isn’t Jay in the middle of the STAR Labs lobby, it’s the Flash; Jay has completely vanished beneath the lightning and the silver kettle helmet and Harrison can’t even recognize him anymore. Flash apparently doesn’t recognize him either, because he calls Harrison “Dr. Wells” and talks to him like they’re strangers, like Harrison doesn’t know that Jay whines when he’s close to cumming and Jay doesn’t know that biting Harrison’s collarbone is a sure-fire way to make him beg.

“Admit it Wells,” says the Flash in Jay’s stolen voice, “and then maybe you can truly help me do something about it.”

“Help you?” Harrison asks, because what has he been doing the last two years if not trying to help?

“You’re the superhero,” he spits, because that’s what Jay is now, no longer a scientist but this  _thing_  Harrison never wanted him to become.

“We would all be safe,” he lies, because he doesn’t care about that, what he cares about is having Jay back, is seeing the Flash  _gone._

“If you would just do your job and stop Zoom.” His voice breaks on the last word, because Jay doesn’t care about Zoom anymore. Jay’s been  _refusing_  to deal with Zoom so he can keep playing superhero without going back on their deal. Eliminating Zoom means eliminating the need for the Flash, and Jay loves being the Flash too much to ever give that up.

Like he gave Harrison up.


	2. 'Force of Nature' Is Not a Compliment Either

For Jay, the plan has always been to save the world. Maybe only in a small, simple way, but he intends to leave the world better than he found it. He’s not doing it for money and he has no intention of giving up his pet cause the minute a better offer comes along, so when Dr. Harrison Wells breezes into his life expecting him to compromise his morals at the slightest provocation Jay nearly laughs him out of the lab. The flirting is harder to ignore, but Jay can see it for the cheap tactic that it is. Jay toys with him a bit, then shuts him down, and with his back turned he can’t see the glimmer of interest in Harrison’s eyes.

Harrison Wells is a force of nature, and he sweeps through the life Jay’s built for himself like a hurricane. Jay struggles to keep his feet but it’s really no good, Harrison has a way of getting what he wants and right now what he wants is Jay. He tells himself that a handful of dinners in the lab doesn’t count as “dating” and they only slept together that one time because they were both drunk, but soon enough they’re exchanging keys and seeing each other almost every night. Jay doesn’t remember how he ends up working at STAR Labs, but Harrison suggested it and it just sort of happened, and now all of a sudden Jay’s entire life revolves around Harrison Wells.

Harrison isn’t telling his daughter, which the logical part of Jay’s brain knows is a bad sign. He told himself he didn’t have any expectations though, and he holds himself to that even as it conflicts more and more with how much of himself he’s putting into this relationship. He hasn’t given up on saving the world though, and he has more, better resources now. It’s worth giving up the independence he had just for how far and how quickly his research is advancing, he thinks, and it’s the truth even if it isn’t the whole truth. He likes his life, even if his situation is a little … precarious, and that’s the truth too. When the particle accelerator goes live he’s proud of Harrison, and he’s proud to be the person Harrison drags into a dark corner and kisses when he’s flushed with triumph.

Then, later that night, Jay gets struck by lightning, and the only thought in his head is “Harrison’s going to kill me.”

He doesn’t, spectacularly, in fact he waits nine freaking months for Jay to wake up from his coma and then does nothing more than smack him. As they’re screwing Jay thinks that this is all a bit far to go for a friend-with-benefits, but he doesn’t know what to do with that so he just resolves to be grateful that he’s come back from being nearly dead with all his faculties intact. There’s a few added perks as well, and the superpowers remind him that the plan has always been to save the world, perhaps now in a way that’s a little more dramatic than he’d anticipated. Harrison isn’t particularly interested in how his powers can be used, only what can be learned from them, but it seems most of the metahumans in Central City disagree with Harrison’s priorities. Then Zoom shows up and Jay does something he hasn’t done in a long time: he puts his foot down. He’s going to save Central City, whether Harrison helps him or not.

Harrison does help, of course. He hates it, and he makes Jay promise they’ll stop as soon as Zoom is gone, but there’s more threats in Central City than Zoom and Jay isn’t fast enough to take him on yet. Harrison helps with that too, even if his ideas are his typical fare, ranging from somewhat risky to unreasonably dangerous. Jay vetoes his ridiculous idea for a speed drug – Harrison doesn’t understand the speed force well enough to be messing with it and Jay’s not going to be guinea pig – but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He doesn’t have much luck with it though, so thankfully that particular argument never comes up.

Which isn’t to say that other arguments don’t come up.

“Why do you hate it so much?” Jay asks quietly as they lay in bed one night, in Harrison’s house for once now that Jesse’s off at college. “That I’m helping people? As the Flash?”

“The Flash isn’t helping people,” Harrison tells him firmly, grumpy like he always is whenever someone brings up the Flash. “You, Jay, are helping people, with your work at STAR Labs. That’s how you save the world, not by running around in a kettle helmet; if I’m not particularly fond of the Flash it’s because I can’t wait until this is over and you can get back to what really matters.”

“You?” Jay suggests teasingly, but Harrison’s face is dead serious, and when he kisses Jay it feels more like ‘shut up’ than anything else.

Jay knows that this won’t be over when Zoom is gone though. There will still be supervillains and it’s increasingly obvious the police will never really be equipped to handle them. Central City will need its hero as long as there are metahumans, so Jay starts trying to find a more permanent solution, and that means understanding where the metahumans came from in the first place. He doesn’t tell Harrison, and at first it’s because Jay knows he won’t like it. He got snippy enough when Jay took five minutes to pull some kids out of a house fire, and Jay doesn’t want to hear him talk about their ‘agreement’ anymore. Harrison’s too focused on Zoom, too focused on fulfilling their deal as soon as possible, to worry about the good of Central City, and Jay finds it frustrating at best.

As he starts digging though, he finds other reasons to keep his investigation from Harrison. “Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” is his mantra as the evidence starts piling up that the timing of the particle accelerator activation and the appearances of the metahumans is way too consistent to be coincidental. A theory blossoms unbidden in the back of his mind, and it gets harder and harder to shake off. He doesn’t feel like his new lab is secure anymore, so he goes back to his old one, and he wonders for the first time in a long time why he let so many of the important places in his life be under the complete control of someone else. He starts running simulations. It doesn’t look good.

Eventually Harrison starts to notice Jay’s increasing independence though, and Jay’s rather surprised with how much it pisses him off. Every time Jay goes off on his own he gets a lecture, like he’s some wayward kid who needs constant supervision, like he owes Harrison an explanation of his whereabouts every minute of every day.

“I can’t pull you away from work at all hours of the day and night Harrison,” Jay protests, “Sometimes things just happen, and there isn’t time to report back to you before I save someone.”

“How about after?” Harrison demands. “Why all the secrets?”

“Like you’re one to talk about secrets,” Jay scoffs. “I don’t suppose you have anything to tell me? About the particle accelerator perhaps?”

Harrison won’t answer him.

Then, Jay finds out about a physicist named Hartley Rathaway. Hartley used to work on the particle accelerator before he was fired from STAR Labs, and he’s perfectly happy to tell Jay  _why_  his employment was terminated. He’d been running some of the same tests Jay’s been working on, assessing the structural integrity of the accelerator, and when he’d found some troubling inconsistencies he’d taken his findings to Dr. Wells. Harrison had subsequently fired him, slammed him with a gag order, and dragged his reputation through the mud to discredit him and anything he might say. It all points to one inevitable conclusion: the particle accelerator is leaking dark matter all over the city, radiation that’s mutating people into metahumans, and Harrison knows about it. Harrison has always known about it.

There’s only one thing to do at that point. Harrison’s controlled his life for far too long, and it’s time for Jay to stop letting him. He can’t fight this battle in the dead of night behind closed doors, he’s got to drag it from the shadows and out into the light, for all of Central City to see. Harrison won’t answer to Jay, but he  _will_ answer to the Flash as long as Jay picks his moment right. He waits for a press conference, the release of Harrison’s new metahuman awareness apps – Jay had told Harrison those things were going to start a race riot, but did Harrison listen? – and arrives on the scene to find a side of the man he loves that he’s never seen before. Harrison stands there, smug and proud and bitter, sarcastic in his greeting and dismissive in his tone, and he might not have powers but in that moment he looks every bit the supervillain.

“Help you?” Harrison asks in disbelief, and it says more than Jay ever wanted to know about the last two years, about how Harrison’s been running him in circles, distracting him from the truth,  _using_  him to distract the rest of Central City.

“You’re the superhero,” he spits the word like a curse, like it’s something Jay should be ashamed of, but he refuses to apologize for who and what he is anymore.

“We would all be safe,” he lies, because that’s what he’s peddling to these people: the dream of safety, a security that he has no intention to provide.

“If you would just do your job and stop Zoom.” On the last word Harrison’s voice breaks, and for a moment, just a moment, he looks completely different. His face doesn’t change but suddenly his eyes look vulnerable, the lines of his face are sad rather than angry, and the set of his jaw doesn’t look like it’s hiding his rage so much as holding him together. He looks desperate and broken and alone, and Jay nearly buckle right then and there.

Then the moment’s gone, and he’s back to being Dr. Harrison Wells: inventor extraordinaire and the most successful supervillain in Central City. Jay shakes his head in disgust, and it keeps the scream bubbling up in his throat safe behind his teeth until he can speed out of there. It takes him a while to get himself back under control, that’s something he can’t do superfast, but once he has he knows what he has to do. He has to be the Flash. He has to stop Zoom. And then, when there are no more excuses to delay dealing with his broken heart, he has to stop the love of his life from destroying Central City.


End file.
